The Wolven

Page 7

Shauna slowed her pace.
This wasn’t a game of musical chairs. And it wasn’t about her or Danyon or her attraction to him.
It was about Simon and Nicole, about finding their murderer.
It was about justice.
Chapter 5
When Shauna finally reached the main lobby of August’s office complex, Danyon had already arrived. He was standing alongside Rita Quinn, August’s executive assistant, near the entrance to the hallway that led to August’s maze of offices. As always, the middle-aged were looked immaculate. She wore a lavender pencil skirt and a white silk blouse, and her light brown hair had been rolled into a perfect French twist. Elegant and tasteful, just like everything in August’s life.
When Rita spotted Shauna, she smiled warmly.
Danyon barely looked her way.
“How wonderful to see you, Ms. MacDonald,” Rita said. “Your timing is perfect, as always. I was about to lead Mr. Stone to the conference room. Mr. Gaudin is expecting both of you.”
“He is?” Puzzled, Shauna glanced over at Danyon, wondering if he’d somehow managed to call ahead and let August know they were coming.
As if reading her thoughts, he shrugged, indicating he had no idea how August knew.
“Of course,” Rita said, then motioned for them to follow her. “Mr. Gaudin is already in the conference room. He’s on a call at the moment, but he insisted I bring both of you to him the moment you arrived.”
They followed Rita down a long, wide hallway, a runner of plush beige carpet stretching along the oakwood floor.
Shauna felt a little awkward walking beside Danyon. She’d acted like a child earlier and was embarrassed about it. Figuring the adult thing to do was probably apologize, she sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eye to get a handle on his mood. He was stern-faced, eyes locked forward. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been in another parish.
Maybe later for that apology.
Maybe.
Rita led them to a set of heavy double doors, then opened one and motioned them inside. The room held a mahogany conference table, massive and oval and surrounded by twelve leather wing-back chairs. In the south corner of the room, near the back, stood a standard-size mahogany desk. August stood beside it, phone to his ear. He nodded an acknowledgment when he saw them.
“Make certain it is taken care of immediately,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line, then he turned slightly, listening intently.
Even in profile, the elder was a formidable figure.
He was shorter than Danyon, although not by much. His silvery-white, shoulder-length hair was a testament to his age, but his stature, the breadth and depth of his chest and shoulders, and his large strong hands appeared to be in direct opposition, for they were appropriate to a much younger man. August’s presence radiated a quiet confidence and wisdom, but when called for, he elicited fear just as easily. He was an attorney by trade and had been elected to the city commission, and also worked with the tourism board. Shauna had always been impressed by his accomplishments, but that wasn’t what bonded her to him.
August was the leader of all the werewolves through out the South, and certainly the fact that she was Keeper of the werewolves in this city had something to do with the kinship they shared. But the connection between them ran much deeper than that.
August had fought alongside her parents in their struggle to avert the great war between the races, and when they died, he immediately took Fiona, Caitlin and Shauna under his wing. He’d raised them as his own. Taught them what it meant to be Keepers. Made sure they were well educated, well fed, loved and protected. He was like a grandfather to Shauna, and each time he looked at her with those gentle, powder blue eyes she felt unconditionally loved. They might not have been bio logically connected, but sharing DNA never assured anyone of love.
As soon as August hung up the phone, Shauna walked over and gave him a hug. He returned it warmly.
“Would anyone care for something to drink?” Rita asked, still standing at the threshold of the room.
“No, thank you,” Shauna said.
Danyon, who was standing at the far end of the conference table, shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
“That will be all, Rita,” August said.
Rita nodded and quietly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
August put an arm around Shauna’s shoulder and led her to the table. After pulling out a chair for her, he motioned to Danyon. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
When everyone was seated, Shauna asked, “Rita said you were expecting us, August. How did you know we were coming?”
“Simple logic,” August said, “I heard about the deaths half an hour ago.”
“From whom?” Danyon asked.
“Rayo Black, one of the bartenders at Jumani’s. Apparently he was working when Andrea went into the bar looking for Andy Saville. Rayo saw how upset she was and offered her a drink to calm her nerves. He claimed after Andrea downed a couple, she began to cry and told him about the dead weres. He called me immediately. Since the weres were from Danyon’s pack, and since you, Shauna, are their Keeper, it was only logical that the two of you would come to me.”
August sighed deeply, propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Details, please,” he said to Danyon. “Tell me.”
For the next forty minutes Danyon relayed the details of how Simon and Nicole were discovered, who had found them, and the condition of their bodies when found. He also told August about his decision to hide the bodies so passersby wouldn’t stumble on them, and that he’d summoned Andy Saville to help with the transfer after dark.
Hearing it all again, Shauna’s anger sparked anew. She still couldn’t believe someone had actually killed the young weres. The emotions hammering her must have been minuscule in comparison to August’s, though. As he listened to Danyon, the elder’s eyes went from powder blue to cobalt. His lips drew into a thin, tight line. Shauna noticed his neck muscles ripple; then, like a wave in motion, that ripple traveled across his chin and up to his cheeks. He was fighting transformation.
Ever since Shauna was a child, she’d known August to be master over his human form and his werewolf identity. Not once had she ever seen his emotions overtake him and the transformation occur spontaneously. He had always been in control. It was understandable that August would be upset about the were deaths, but for the news to have this great an effect on him, there had to be more going on in his head than processing what he’d just heard.
Danyon leaned across the table. “I plan on examining the bodies more closely before they’re returned to their families. Something—”
“Have them taken to my lake house in LaPlace,” August said sharply. “I want to see them for myself. Do you remember how to get there?”
“Of course.”
“Wasn’t that house damaged during Hurricane Katrina?” Shauna asked.
“Yes, but it’s been renovated, and I had a large workshop built beside it. Forty by forty, plenty of fluorescent lighting. Andy can bring Nicole and Simon there. I’ll take care of notifying the families, as well. Although I’d be surprised if news hasn’t already reached them by now.” August turned to Danyon. “You were about to say more before I interrupted. Please continue.”
“Just that something occurred to me when I was on my way here.”
“Yes?”
“Well, Nicole and Simon had obvious wounds from being declawed and defanged, but I didn’t notice anything that specifically pointed to the cause of death. No gunshot wound or blunt force trauma. There was a lot of blood, but I don’t believe either of them bled out. The silver wire used on Nicole—and I suspect on Simon, as well—definitely did some damage. Burned right through fur, flesh and muscle. But as torturous as that sounds, I don’t believe that’s what caused Nicole’s death. Simon’s either. They may have been stabbed, but I won’t know that for sure until I examine the bodies. But, August, the bigger question is how is it possible that both remained in were-state after they died? I’ve never witnessed that before. Never even heard it was possible. Have you?”
August bowed his head, pushed away from the table and slowly got to his feet. He walked over to an occasional table that stood against a far wall beneath a six-foot painting of St. Louis Cathedral. On the table sat a crystal pitcher filled with ice water and surrounded by six crystal tumblers. August filled one of the tumblers with water, lifted it to his lips and drank slowly until it was drained.
Shauna had never seen August act this way, and it frightened her.
After setting the empty glass back on the occasional table, August turned toward them. His face had gone from grave to gray. “Yes, I have witnessed the phenomenon before.”
He walked back to the head of the conference table, but instead of sitting, he paced slowly back and forth, like a lecturer preparing to give a speech. When August finally spoke, his voice was low and distant, the voice of a man pulling up a memory that he would prefer not disinter. “I witnessed the kind of death you mentioned nearly six decades ago. I was in Romania at the time. A group of local weres had captured a rogue were—a wolven, as it happened—who’d been responsible for the mutilation and deaths of three human children. He was brought before the were-council, and it didn’t take long for them to pronouce him guilty and sentence him to death. I concurred with the council’s decision, of course, as did the magistrate who was serving at the time. But the magistrate wanted the rogue’s execution to be as severe as his crime.”
August took a deep breath, stopped pacing, and faced them. “He had the rogue bound in silver and steel, then beaten relentlessly while the silver burned through his flesh. Of course that intense pain created the emotional state that was needed to force his transformation. As soon as the transformation was complete, he was stripped of his claws and fangs.”
“I don’t understand,” Shauna said. “How did that serve as an execution? Did he bleed to death?”